I narrow my eyes and he narrows his back. “Now, chop-chop. No takeaways.”
Sighing, I grab the potato and start chopping. I can’t help glaring at him now and again. Despite being in his mid-fifties, Dad looks way younger than that. His hair is still a dark blond with barely any white strands and his eyes are a deep blue, which is the only thing he passed down to Elsa—his biological daughter.
The look in his gaze is wise and collected, as if he’s seen the whole world and nothing could perturb him anymore.
He comes from money—old, powerful, and influential. However, he didn’t only use what he inherited to get where he is today. He invested it and started countless business ventures that made him tenfold richer and more untouchable than his father ever was.
But when we were growing up, he didn’t allow us to be spoiled by that money, never let us use it as a blanket excuse for our actions or a crutch we could fall back on when things didn’t work out.
We have one motto in our family—everyone is responsible for their own actions.
Even Dad himself.
Sometimes, it feels as if he brought together people who could never fit in the same puzzle, and yet, we somehow do.
We’re somehow the most cohesive family I know.
Despite our dark and bloody past.
“Since you’ve brought the whole of London, why didn’t you finish the job and invite Agnus so he could cook?”
“He came with us, but he chose to finish some pending work at the hotel.” He smiles at the mention of his childhood friend/right-hand man-turned-husband. “And he’s Dad to you.”
“No way in fuck will I call him Dad after I’ve known him as Agnus all my life.”
“Teal does that just fine. Or you could call him Papa, like Elsa does.”
“Eww, no way in fuck. And Elsa does that just to egg him on. She still doesn’t like him, in case you didn’t notice.”
“She’ll get there.”
“Those are empty dreams and you know it, Dad.”
A dark look covers his features and I realize I fucked up by reminding him of facts he doesn’t like to think about. My father’s personal life has always been a mess of epic proportions. His first wife, Elsa’s mother, was a psycho who captured me and Teal after we ran away from our mother, because she wanted us to look like her lost son.
As if that wasn’t enough, he was shot by her and spent nine years in a coma, during which time, Agnus took care of us. And when he woke up, it was like he’d become a different person. When we were young, he used to be more outgoing, but after sleeping for almost a decade, he changed.
The only person who stood with him through it all was Agnus. That man can be mistaken for a mute and Elsa calls him a psycho to his face, and honestly, he does have antisocial tendencies, but I knew early on how much he cared for Dad.
In fact, he only took care of us in his absence for Dad’s sake.
What surprised me, however, was when Dad invited the three of us to a family dinner and announced that he and Agnus were in a relationship.
While I always assumed Agnus was fluid orientation-wise, Dad is the straightest person I know. And he still is, I guess.
He once told me that Agnus is the only man he’s attracted to. It’s not about his gender, it’s about him.
So for the first time in his life, he has stability with the one person who understands him the most. The fact that there’s bad blood between his only biological daughter and his husband has always sat wrong with him.
And in hindsight, I shouldn’t have brought their animosity up, so I redirect the convo to a topic Dad likes—praising his husband.
“By the way, I got the annual report of the portfolio Agnus handled for me, and the profit tripled.”
A rare smirk tugs his lips. “He knows what he’s doing.”
“Obviously. I have more money than I can ever spend.”
“You could start your own firm.”
“Not yet. I need to get a few more years of experience first.”
He fixes me with a glare.
I search my surroundings, then focus back on him. “What?”
“Did you send Agnus a thank-you gift for tripling your profit?”
“He doesn’t like those.” I resist the urge to mention that Agnus is a bit antisocial.
Okay, a lot. I’m a million percent sure that he would’ve become a serial killer if he hadn’t met Dad early on in their childhood.
“Send it.”
“Fine. Is he coming over here later?”
“No, he’ll spend the night at the hotel.”